Rue's Debt
by Cillia-san
Summary: [Rated T for Nudity and Language] Rue is obviously grateful for Fakir and Duck's sacrifice for her and Mytho's happy ending, but after about a year she gradually began to take everything for granted; until one night, she has a horrible nightmare about her friends' future and decides she has to pay back her debt.
1. The Nightmare

**Hi there! Okay, so yeah, I've put Mytho's Pet Shop on the backburner…just for now. James Birdsong suggested I should try writing my other idea for a fanfic! :D So here it is. It's a little…no, it's a LOT different: this is my first Princess Tutu After Story fanfic, since Mytho's Pet Shop is an AU. So yeah. It takes place about a year after the anime ends. :3 Enjoy~ **

Chapter One:

The image was hazy at first, but then came into focus. It was a lake all too familiar. On the small wooden pier that went about 4 feet out into the lake, a there was a young man sitting at a desk. He seemed content in his work, which appeared to be writing. Now and then, he would look up and stare across the lake. On the other end, calmly swimming about, was a little yellow duck, which big blue eyes. The man smiled and waved. The duck waved her little wing in acknowledgement and began to swim over. He tossed her a piece of bread from his pocket, which the duck ate up hungrily. The man bent down and patted the duck on her feathery little head, and said:

"I'll bring you back. Then we too can have a happy ending, yeah?"

The duck looked up into the man's green eyes and nodded, with a blank stare. The man bit his lip and turned back to his work. Suddenly, time seemed to wisp by, like a frail leaf in the summer wind. The sun rose and set with a speeding pace, and movements were sped up, as in a time lapse. Day after day, the man continued to return to the pier and write. His sped up hand often ripped his old, withered notebook, crumpling the pages and tossing them behind him. Years flew by, and the young man began to noticeably age into a grown man. And yet, the duck stayed the same, as if not a day had gone by. The man's gestures began more frustrating and frantic, his fingers now permanently stained with the black ink of his golden quill. As for the duck, she seemed to grow more and more distant, acting less like a duck with a human mind and emotions, and more like your average duck. Her blue eyes darkened to a dark gray, her gestures and movements less graceful, more…well, duck-like. The duck seemed to revert to an earlier stage, as if she was never changed by a strange and fairy-tale like sequence of events that no one remembers. And as the years passed by, the duck had left the lake for long periods of time, migrating around when the winter came. But the gradual change of the man's duck didn't thwart his continuous struggle, writing on and on. As the years continued to pass, you would think any man in his right mind would've reluctantly, but surely, have eventually given up, trying to revive the last bit of magic he had. He would've moved on with his life, just as the duck had with hers, met someone else, and had a life. But then, the man wasn't in his right mind. It was apparent that this man had lost his sanity in his impossible quest long ago.

The water had continued to flow, the time had continued to pass, but the now middle-aged man had failed to tell his story. He had gone over the edge, past the point of no return. He stopped coming and going, and had devoted his existence to his story, never leaving or sleeping. Even when the duck was gone for the summer, an insane smile crept along the middle-aged man as he looked up from his work to toss a now moldy, crusty, stale piece of bread from the pocket of his worn pants, and said:

"I have a feeling we're close, Duck!" He said, without his duck even being there, "You'll just have to be patient a little longer, and then, we can finally have our happy ending, yeah?"

After he finished talking he smiled an insane smile directed to an animal that wasn't there, and tossed his wrinkled, saggy face back and bellowed a mighty laugh of excitement and anxiousness. Then he brought himself back to his aged, old notebook, with yellowed pages, some ripped, with running ink from the rain that he ignored, and brought his still golden quill and his blackened hand down to his writing, with even more confidence and enthusiasm than before. He panted heavily and he wrote, and wrote, and wrote, ink thrillingly darting from the page. More years passed, the duck coming and going, the man writing and writing. The man grew old, skinny from his lack of eating over the years of writing, and face decrepit with wrinkles and folds, the most prominent, of course, his laugh-lines, from the years of passively laughing like a maniac, throwing moldy bread on the grassy lake bank. Moldy bread collected in a pile, sometimes being eaten by insects or other animals. Crumpled pages collected in a pile as well. From all the insanity and lack of food, the old man began to die. He was breathing even more heavily, and frantic writing slowed, but not once did he think of stopping. The duck flew back in from her yearly trip further south. She swam around a bit and occasionally dipped under water for a few seconds, coming back up with a small fish in her mouth. When the old man noticed her, he gave his smile and wave, like he always had, but the duck didn't respond. The old man worn and saggy hand lay down on his lap, and he gave a little toss of his head, tangled gray hair giving a little jump. Then the duck looked up, without any sign of interest, but still decided to waddle on over to the old man. He cracked a huge grin and picked up his tattered old notebook off his desk and shoved it in front of the duck's face.

"Look at this, Duck!" The man said, excitedly, "I think I got it this time!"

When the sickly old man said that, the duck felt a little strange. From deep inside, she felt a flurry of emotion and memories that had long been forgotten. A tint of blue color flashed by.

With her own animal instinct, she jumped back in fear. The old man continued:

"I'm so close to finishing, Duck! I can just see your human self in my mind!" His sickly, dying voice was cracked and aged, but kept a young kind of spirit. The duck, meanwhile, had her fist conscious thought in decades…not only that, but it was in human language.

_My… human self?_

The old man was dying for sure now. He put his last efforts into his newest piece of writing. And with every word, the duck's eyes grew a little bluer. The duck had a sudden thought that flashed through her expanding mind. Well, it wasn't a thought exactly…it was an emotion.

An emotion that she had lost an overdose of many, many years ago. An emotion that had lost its strong feel. An excess emotion that, so long ago, she had selflessly handed off to a prince in peril. An emotion that, so many times, had been mistaken for love.

But it wasn't love. Oh no. It was hope.

With the old man's final efforts, his gradually slowing hand finished the last sentence. And with a satisfied, less insane and more…calm…smile, spread across his decrepit face.

"I told you I'd finish it," He wheezed, with his final breaths. And then the man died.

At that moment, the duck's eyes widened to a new shape and feeling, bluer than they ever were. Her yellow feathers evaporated to long, braided red hair that fell past her knees. Her little duck's body grew and morphed into that of a petite 14 year old girl. Her bill changed shape to a cute upturned nose and a pink-lipped mouth. Where a duck had stood but a few seconds ago, a beautiful and adorable young girl stood, dressed in nothing but long strips of wavy red locks. And she gained her consciousness. Staring at the dead old man, her eyes began to water, but then stopped, and simply stood there with her little mouth slightly open. There are times when you are simply beyond tears.

The girl began to glow again as she edged towards the dead man that so well resembled two men she knew. A young man she had fell in love with, and another man…a man that had been long dead.

The girl's small, glowing, and trembling hand began to reach out to the dead writer. And in the moment before she touched the man's cold, dead face, she changed. Not into another animal, no heavens no. It was, instead, another side of herself. She was clothed in a gorgeous white tutu, white as the feathers of swan, with a translucent underskirt of pink lace. Her tender feet were pulled into Pointe, and were delicately caressed with pink satin, ribbons magically criss-crossing up her calf, up to her knee, and pulled themselves into a cute little bow in the back. Her hands were cuffed with big beaded bracelets, and her long braid of hair was undone and then pinned up with fragile white feather hairpieces. Angel-like wings sprouted from her back, curving around her fallen love. The girl's small hand then touched the man's wrinkled face, but it gave off a sudden wave of horrible magic at work. Tutu's eyes widened and quickly pulled back her angelic hand, but it was too late. From where her finger used to be, a small crack had opened. Then the crack spread and lengthened, grotesquely splitting the dead man perfectly in half. A splash of blood sputtered from the body. Tutu's hand flew to her mouth in horror. They had been unable to avoid their fates after all. Accepting her fate at long last, Tutu's eyes shut closed, glistening tears streaming down her cheeks. And then, she whispered the terrible, yet somehow comforting words.

"My knight…" Tutu breathed, "I-I…I love you…"

Nothing happened.

"I love you!" Tutu exclaimed, with more confidence.

Still nothing. Tutu's eyes narrowed.

"I LOVE YOU, FAKIR!" She screamed.

After her confession of love, she broke down into a sob and wept at Fakir's dead body, a smile, split in half, on his aged face. She knew it was the end; she could feel her blood evaporating into sparkles of light inside her. Externally, it started at her feet. Her beautiful satin Pointe shoes disintegrated into bright flakes of light. As it crept up her strong and perfect figure, Tutu clutched Fakir's cold hands lighter in her fragile grasp. But even that wasn't possible, for her wrists disappeared into flurries of light, and utterly destroyed her helpless grasp for Fakir, which only made her cry harder. After another painful few seconds, Tutu was only a bust of herself with a couple of glowing hands dying with her fallen Knight, ripped in half by not the touch of the black raven, but of the white swan and the yellow duck. Tutu used what was left of her hands to wipe her eyes, and her fingers were no more. Then she gave a soft chuckle.

"We are really a couple of fools, aren't we?" She smiled, tears dripping from her glowing face.

All the golden dust collected into one speck of light, which vanished along with the sunlight coming in through the trees with the daybreak. Fakir's body then fell away, evaporating into the shadows of the old desk that was stained with ink and falling apart, and the trees surrounding the lake. A stream of light against a stream of shadow. Although one could not exist without the other, they are fated to never cross paths or interact for as long as the water flows and the time passes.

_Now, you've told me a _story_! _Bellowed the voice of the man who'd long been dead.

A curtain fell upon the tragedy-turned-happy-story-turned-tragedy again. (funny how that works out) Whispers in the wind cried that the ending, leaping about the audience seats that were placed before the grand stage, which was, in fact, an illusion. But the one and only real person in the audience, the man who'd long been dead, silenced it with a huge laugh. He laughed and laughed, triumphant in the long run and relieved.

"A masterpiece! A masterpiece!" He shouted in between laughing spasms, "In the end, my powers won! That took a lot more work than I expected, but in the end, it was worth it! Hahahahahahahaha!"

The scene began to go hazy and unfocused again. In the back row, another real person sat, unbeknownst to the author who died long ago. A princess sat, hair as black as a raven's feathers, tied into a beautiful flip on the top of her head, and she was wearing a black tutu of raven's feathers that she hated. Her eyes were wide and tearing up, and she gave herself away with a small whimper of utter sorrow.

As soon as she did, the author's laughing stopped abruptly. He quickly spun around from his front row seat, his face bright red with rage of unimaginable proportions.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?" He spat.

Rue cried out and sat up in her bed. Her eyes were red and her face was all wet with tears. At once, the Prince, who was sleeping next to her, sat up with fear and grabbed his fiancé.

"Rue!" He asked, a worrisome look in his amber eyes, "Are you ok?"

Rue gave into his embrace and cried.

"Oh, it was horrible!" She wheezed after about a minute of crying in the Prince's arms. She knew she had to do something. She clutched the cloth of the Prince's velvety sleeping robe. She had to pay back the debt she owed to a knight and a duck.


	2. Raven's Blood

**:D Hey there~! Yeah, I know. It's been a million years since I've updated anything, and Mytho's Pet Shop is going to be updated…not so soon. Sorry! I just really wanted to continue this story. It's more interesting to me o3o. Enjoy~**

Chapter Two:

It had been a year since Rue had left with Mytho to Dove Kingdom. For the first month there, Rue was constantly depressed about how guilty she felt in that moment when she hugged a little yellow duck goodbye and looked over her shoulder and saw a helpless couple, a writer with an impaled hand, inky fingertips, and rustled hair, and a tiny, useless animal cradled in his arms. Mytho, meanwhile, got a heavy dose of reality- the people of Dove Kingdom were devastated. The kingdom was still in ruin from the battle of the Raven. People were starving and bodies littered the streets. And every single civilian believed and accepted that their prince had perished, slaughtered by the Raven.

Mytho and Rue had expected to be married within a few weeks, but things were not that simple. To break down things, this is what happened throughout the course of the year.

For the first month, Mytho and Rue had just barely made it through. Fights broke out just because of stolen pieces of bread in the streets. People were crying and pleading passersby for even the slightest bit of food. In fact, food and other necessities were like gold bricks, and actual money was like dirt in comparison. This was the time in which Mytho and Rue got their reality slap, and they began to be hungry and tired themselves.

In the second, third, and fourth months, Mytho tried to rise through the political ranks. This may be a fantasy, fairy tale kingdom, but Drosselmayer was the one who created it and destroyed it, and he was so descriptive, powerful, and distressing to his tragedy. Mytho made public appearances and tried to be noticed, but the people wouldn't simply accept him. After all, their amazing and loving prince was dead! But by the end of the third month, Mytho had established himself as the Prince, explaining the story and letting everyone know that their prince wasn't dead. He was alive.

The next seven months were spent trying to rebuild the kingdom, which wasn't at all easy. Rue and Mytho had to try to organize what was the aftermath of an apocalypse. They called builders and mages to support the land and rebuild houses and the city walls. They put farmers to work and tried to haul as much food as possible. But as the two worked hard day and night, they finally saw improvement. Families made their homes again.

The eight month was the happiest month for the kingdom. This was because the kingdom saw its first harvest. It was bountiful, providing food for all. And money too! Currencies finally made a comeback when economy was reestablished through the buying and selling of this food, and was used commercially by everyone. Also, the rebuilding of the kingdom was complete, and Rue and Mytho were able to move back into the castle.

Between everything that happened, Rue and Mytho couldn't even stop to catch their breath, and the Duck and the Knight were soon pushed to the back of Rue's mind. It wasn't until last night that Rue even remembered them. But the nightmare Rue experienced was more than enough for Rue to realize what had to be done.

And so, there Rue sat, clinging onto her fiancé with only about a week or two until their wedding. The wedding, they had planned, would be the most wonderful event the kingdom had ever seen, not only celebrating the union of their beloved prince and his beautiful new wife, but also how far the kingdom had come after the battle of the Raven, how many families were brought back together, and how much hard work had finally paid off. But now Rue had nothing but tears, realizing that their dear friends were in a horrible position while she was finally happy.

_Happily ever after…_ Rue thought to herself.

"Rue…" Mytho was worried, "What happened?"

Rue got out of bed and slipped on one of her gorgeous, laced gowns. She often chose the ones that matched her emotions that day. Today, she reached in the far, far back of the closet for something she never wore, a dress she hated. It was a black, feathered tutu. Mytho's eyes widened as he saw her slip on the dress. He was even more shocked when he saw her tie her hair up into a beautiful flip on the top of her hair and proceed to put on a pair of black pointe shoes.

"R-Rue… What are you doing?" Mytho stuttered. Rue only looked back and showed him her teary face. Then, from her back, sprouted a pair of huge, stunning wings. The feathers were black.

"Rue…you still have the Raven's blood in your veins! Don't go doing anything that'll get you into trouble!" Mytho yelled. But Rue only shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Mytho." She said, her tears turning into black blood. Raven's blood. And then, she leap out of the window.

"RUE!" Mytho jumped over their bed and ran to the window, reaching his hand out to catch her. But it was too late. Her wings caught the wind and she soared away. Mytho knew he had the Raven's blood too, but he was too scared to try attempt at flying. And besides, he'd probably turn into black-feathered, scary, beaked monster instead, like last time. As the prince, the Raven was against his morals and principles. So he was left without his princess. He didn't know where she was headed, but she certainly did. It was to Gold Crown Town, to correct the mistakes she left undisturbed. She just prayed she wasn't too late.


End file.
